Gumshoe Gorilla (28 page)

"Well, what am I supposed to feed him then?"

"Duh. Cat's milk of course. They sell it at any pet store."

Drew got a really disturbed look on his face, and I could tell what he was thinking.

"No, Drew. They don't actually milk cats. Interesting as it might be to try. They use goats that have been gene-spliced to produce the stuff."

Drew looked relieved. I went to my desk and started digging around, looking for some bugs to take to work with me. I found one that had slipped into a clown shoe, and another that had rolled under my chair.

"So, were you able to ID our blond mystery woman from last night?" I asked as I rummaged around trying to find a third.

"Not yet," Drew said. "The night clerk didn't know who she was, and the day clerk doesn't come on duty for a couple hours yet. I'm sure that someone will remember her, though. How'd you do following the three musketeers?"

"That's kind of an interesting story. The limo went back to their hotel, but only two of them got out. --No, don't ask me which two. And if I ever agree to take on another case involving identical quintuplets, please shoot me first.-- Anyway, like I said, only two of them got out and went inside. So I could either follow them upstairs and tuck them into bed, or stick with the one in the limo."

"I'm guessing you took the one in the limo."

"Give that man a prize and his own late night talk show. Yep, I stuck with the limo. It headed up north to Buckhead and dropped him off behind the Ritz Carlton."

"Another rendezvous? How much energy do these boys have?"

"Until last night, I would have been happy to find out for you. But no, I don't think it was another tryst. He waited until the limo was out of sight, and then he got on the phone. I caught the conversation with the rifle mic but it was just, "Yeah. I'm here." Five minutes later a black concordance pulled into the parking lot and picked him up. There was a guy in the back seat, and a dark haired woman behind the wheel."

"Long hair or short?"

"Short. And I know what you're thinking. She could be the one who left those stray hairs in Charles' car. If... "

"...if that was even Charles that you were following," Drew said with a groan. "Do you think if we asked real nice they'd all agree to wear name tags for the duration of this case?"

"I'd be happy to suggest it," I said.

"OK. Did you get any pictures of the woman or the other man in the car?"

"Drew, I was lucky to even get the license number. Whoever that woman is, she drives like an Iranian cabby with diplomatic plates. She ran three yellow lights in a row, and then started making random turns. After three rights and two lefts, it was pretty obvious that she knew she had a tail, so I dropped back and let her go. I figured that we didn't want to tip our hand just yet."

"Good call."

"Yeah, I know. But it would have been a lot more fun to chase her down and get a look at her."

Drew smiled, and I knew that he agreed with me. Even if he didn't want to admit it.

"Maybe," he said. "But our insurance rates are high enough, thank you. Besides, I can probably talk someone on the force into running the plate number for us. Oh, and did you save the data from the rifle mic?"

"Of course. It's in the case file."

Drew called it up and listened to the playback. He replayed the start of the call three times, listening to the tones on Rockland's phone as he dialed it. Duh, I should have thought of that. I'd just been too caught up in the chase last night. Drew jotted down ten digits. Presumably it was the phone number of the woman in the black car.

I switched my phone over to a dummy account that I use when I don't feel like being tagged by caller ID, and then punched in the number. The woman's phone rang once and then went immediately to voicemail.

"Ah... what's up, doc?" a cartoon voice asked. It was followed by a beep.

I hung up.

"No name on her outgoing voicemail," I said. "We can try again later, when she's more likely to be awake."

Drew nodded, and glanced at his watch.

"Shouldn't you be getting off to the set?"

I checked the time. It was twenty till seven. But the show was shooting at the High Museum again, and that was only ten minutes away. Besides, I knew how Veronica operated. If I got there early, she'd just try to squeeze that much more work out of me.

Drew looked at me expectantly. We both knew that I was going to make some excuse to hang around the office for a few more minutes. The only question was how good it would be. I opened my mind and plumbed the depths of my creativity for something really first rate.

My concentration was broken by the sound of Drew's phone ringing.

"HELLO?"

The word hung in the empty screen. I tapped on it, just to make sure it was really Parker. My agent program ran a quick check against all the voice prints that my visor had recorded, and a moment later added a red ID tag.

"HELLO?" (DREW PARKER)

"Y-, H- Mr Parker. It's S--." I typed, in the short hand I use for the voice synthesizer. On his end, it would say "Yes. Hello Mr. Parker. It's Skye Phillips."

"OH, GOOD MORNING MS. PHILLIPS."

"GMorn_ 2 U. Sorry 2 call so urly, but I jst woke up and got ur msg. ?u hav news 4 me alrdy?"

"UH YES... WE.... THAT IS MY PARTNER AND I FOLLOWED..."

"Sorry 2 intrpt, but ?culd u add a visual link frm ur end?" I asked.

Most people don't bother to transmit video with their phone calls, but I find that it helps me follow conversations. Natural speakers are amazingly imprecise in their use of the English language, and I usually need to see their facial expressions to figure out what they're trying to say.

"UH..."

I watched the meaningless syllable hang on the screen for five or six seconds before he continued with the sentence. It's one of the strange things about hearing people that I've never been able to figure out: They keep talking even when they have nothing to say.

Finally, Parker finished his thought.

"YEAH. JUST A SECOND."

I'd probably caught him in bed. While Mr. Parker put on a shirt or combed his hair or did whatever he felt was necessary to make himself presentable for the camera, I glanced through the open door into Charles' room. He was still sleeping. Poor boy had gotten in late from entertaining some studio honcho. Luckily, the show was shooting scenes with the bad guys first thing this morning, and the brothers didn't have to be on set till ten.

I got up and closed the door between our rooms. My boyfriend back in college said that the sound of me banging on a keyboard was loud enough to wake the dead. I don't know if he was serious, or just trying to get me to knock off work on my term paper and come have sex with him. But better safe than sorry.

I was still getting accustomed to sharing space with Charles. After all the time that we've been together, this was the first season that we'd gotten adjoining rooms. Sort of a half step towards moving in together. Oh, I would have been happier sharing an apartment, but the production company would never go for that. It's just so much easier for them deal with security when everyone's in a hotel. They rent out three floors, put a restricted access lock on the elevator, and the problem is basically taken care of. And it is kind of a fun atmosphere. Like being in a college dorm again. People leave their doors open and wander into each other's rooms to talk and hang out. Of course, it also means that everybody knows your business.

Finally, a picture came to life on my monitor, an image of Mr. Parker sitting behind his desk. In the background, I could see a coat rack holding a leather jacket, a clown costume, and something frilly that I think was a ballet tutu. I still wasn't sure what to make of this firm. Mr. Parker and his associate seemed professional, but their office looked more like a singing telegram service than a detective agency

"Ther u r," I typed.

"YES. SORRY FOR THE DELAY. I HAD SOME THINGS ON MY DESK THAT I WANTED TO PUT AWAY."

"No prblm. ?u wer saying?"

"YES... UM... CHARLES ROCKLAND LEFT YOUR HOTEL A LITTLE BEFORE TEN PM LAST NIGHT..."

Parker paused, picked up a palmtop, and pretended to be reading from it. But his eyes weren't moving to scan the text. Clearly, he just wanted to avoid looking straight into the camera. This wasn't going to be good news.

"MS. GRAY AND I FOLLOWED CHARLES TO A LIMO, WHERE HE MET UP WITH TWO OF HIS BROTHERS. WE'RE GUESSING DOUG AND BERNIE. FROM THERE THEY PROCEEDED TO THE OMNI HOTEL, WHERE THEY MET A BLOND WOMAN IN HER MID-THIRTIES. WE HAVEN'T BEEN ABLE TO IDENTIFY HER YET, BUT WE EXPECT TO HAVE A NAME WITHIN THE NEXT..."

"?Do u have a pcture?" I asked.

Parker nodded and touched his palmtop. A new window opened up on my desk. A familiar blond woman getting into a limo. Not the most flattering picture I'd ever seen of her.

"DO YOU RECOGNIZE HER?" Mr. Parker inquired.

"Duh," I typed. "Thats Coral Makepeace."

Parker's face showed no sign of recognition.

"?U dont read Variety, do u?"

I took his blank stare for a "no".

"VP at MGM? T- nice folks who make t- James bond films? U have hurd of James Bond, right?"

Parker's face flushed crimson, but he nodded that he did.

"Long story short," I went on. "MGM retiring Ewan McGregor from Bond role, looking 4 replacement. T- Rockland boys r up 4 t- role. That hole 3 actors in 1 advntg."

"UH... WELL, THAT KIND OF EXPLAINS... DID YOU KNOW..."

"Y-," I typed. "Not t- spcfcs. But I no how H-WOOD works. Charles + I have an understndng about entertaning 4 business purposes."

"UH... SORRY, I..."

There was a long pause. Parker seemed to be stuck.

"Appreci8 u keeping an i on him, but i did not hire u 2 find out that Charles is kissing up 2 sum1 who can get him a good role. Duh. Hes an actor. Thats not what worries me. Have u lurned anyt-g else?"

"UM... YEAH... WE'RE RUNNING DOWN SOME OTHER LEADS. BY THE WAY, DOES THE NAME JACKSON BRAND RING A BELL?"

I thought about it.

"Nope. Not evn a windchime. ?shud it?"

"WELL, WE FOUND A DRIVERS LICENSE IN THAT NAME WITH ROCKLAND'S PICTURE IN THE TRUNK OF HIS CAR. ALSO A DISGUISE. WE'RE NOT SURE WHAT HE MIGHT BE DOING WITH THAT FAKE IDENTITY YET, BUT WE'RE CHECKING."

I felt my stomach knot up. I'd been sure that there was something wrong with Charles. The change in his moods, his stress levels, the unexplained disappearances. But it still hit me like a brick, hearing confirmation of it from someone else.

"?How soon can u find out?"

"WE'RE CHECKING INTO IT NOW... I DON'T WANT TO MAKE ANY PROMISES UNTIL..."

He looked up at someone else in the room, then resumed speaking.

"BY THE WAY DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME CHARLES CAME IN LAST NIGHT?"